Resonance
by amidoh
Summary: For Perceptor, it's all too easy to be weak sometimes... but the strong can only help so much. Collection of drabbles into one larger story.
1. Chapter 1

"Who's there!?" Demanded Magnus, pulling his weapon when he heard a clatter in the heap of trash and reject parts. "Show yourself, or I shoot!"

For a moment, the only noise was the metallic tinkle of a bolt bouncing from a piece of scrap plating, and then, red paint that the City Commander had at first thought was another piece of lifeless metal twitched and shuddered. There was a small noise. A human might have called it a sob.

"... Ultra Magnus...? Don't shoot..."

Magnus lowered his weapon slowly.

"... _Perceptor_?"

The scientist nodded as he extracted himself from the heap of scrap and discarded parts he had been crouched in, peeling old paint from where it clung to his plating. "Yes."

"What are you doing sitting out here?"

Perceptor rose to his feet slowly, and Magnus noticed his side dented in, though he did not comment on it. "... I was thinking."

"Out here? In the scrap?"

"..." The microscope turned his head away and did not answer.

The silence was awkward, and it dragged on uncomfortably. Eventually, with a 'by-your-leave', Perceptor bade Ultra Magnus farewell and retreated inside Metroplex.

oOo

The red-bodied microscope raised his hand to his cheek to ease the soreness, suppressing a wince as it sent shocks of pain through his receptors.

"Perceptor?" He turned when he was hailed, his hand still up to hide the awful dent.

"Yes, Magnus?"

A smile, slightly distorted by the bent derma-plating, lit Perceptor's pale face. Though it was slightly hidden from Ultra Magnus' view by the defensive hand, he saw nonetheless. Worry crept over his kind faceplates.

"... huh, you're damaged? What happened to your cheek?"

"Nothing..." the little scientist turned his head away, though whether it was in embarrassment or shame was unclear. "I tripped and hit my head."

Magnus looked disbelieving. "The third time this deca-cycle?"

A little shrug, "I'm clumsy..."

"Not so clumsy, surely?" The City Commander's blue optics had narrowed in suspicion; though he was only a soldier and certainly not medically trained, even he could see that the damage on the scientist's face was not what one would expect for the victim of a fall – it was concentrated and quite severe in small spots, and had even caused a thin crack in his optic.

Perceptor looked away. "You'd be surprised. Sometimes I just get caught up in what I'm doing. What did you want me for, Magnus?"

Still the soldier stared suspiciously at the red-bodied researcher. "Are you sure you're all right? There's not anything you want to tell me, is there?"

"No." said Perceptor firmly. "Sorry, but it's not your business. So what did you want for me?"

"Hmm? Oh, I was asked to tell you, someone's waiting for you in your lab."

A little nod. "Do you know who?"

"No, sorry, that's all I was told."

Perceptor turned away, his hand back up at his damaged cheek. "Thank you for passing on the message." Without waiting for Ultra Magnus' nod, he left to head back to his lab.

Oh, he had no doubt who was waiting there for him, who would ask after him and send warriors to fetch him. Half of him was touched and blissful. Half was apprehensive and quivered in fear.

The walk, at the same time, dragged for too long but was over far too quickly.

Sure enough, as he saw when he approached the threshold to his private laboratory, he had not been wrong about the identity of the mech who waited on him. A smile pasted to his lips, he raised a hand in greeting.

"Hello," his voice was soft, unobtrusive, barely-there, "have you been waiting long?"

His bondmate took him into a close and warm embrace, cooed loving nothings into his audios, raised a hand to brush over his injury with a deceptive gentleness. Perceptor had to catch himself – he almost flinched. It was easy to forget, when he was being held close like this, and cherished, and valued, and loved.

But...

"Do you mind if I don't recharge with you this night?" He whispered, barely daring to raise his voice any louder, "I have a lot of work to do for Optimus and I promised him I'd make it top priority."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Expressions of adoration turned into vengeful snarls. A loving caress turned into a harsh backhand that stung his already-wounded cheek and sent him crashing to the floor. Promises of 'forever' and devotion turned into accusations of weakness, of worthlessness, of not valuing his mate enough.

Perceptor flinched, but he'd long learned how not to cry under such an assault. He loved his mate. Sometimes he thought his mate loved him, too. Sometimes it was hard to tell.

Much of the time, he was happy to be in the arms of someone who claimed to love him and who had, once, treated him well. At the beginning of his courtship, it had been the happiest place in the world. Some of the time, it became a nightmare, harrowing and soul-rending.

Now, he was happiest when he was finally left alone.

oOo

"Perceptor?" It was Magnus again. The microscope turned his head away, not wanting his commander to question him, not wanting the awkward topics that would be raised.

"Sir?" He responded obediently enough, but managed to shorten his tone, make it clear he did not want to talk.

Magnus sighed, did not approach further. "Perceptor... you've never called me 'sir' before for as long as we've known each other."

No answer. There was nothing he could say to that.

The City Commander took a seat next to the red-bodied scientist, who angled his body away ever so slightly. Before the blue and white soldier could even start to question, Perceptor had spoken his answer.

"I want to be alone, Magnus."

Ultra Magnus did not move.

"Perceptor, I respect your right to privacy," he stated, his tone soothing and calm and strong and warming. Perceptor lowered his optics in shame, despite that his superior could not see, "but if you ever find yourself in need of somewhere safe... you know where my quarters are. Feel free to let yourself in."

Again, he had no answer to such a statement. Again, the silence reigned, but more because the microscope was chilled by a growing dread... did Ultra Magnus know...? Did he just suspect...? Yet... the offer was more than he could have asked for, and just what he had needed.

When Perceptor looked back, Magnus was gone.

oOo

Magnus had been surprised when he returned to his quarters and found Perceptor standing quietly to attention outside the door. He'd ushered the microscope in, found him a small cube of energon, given him a seat at the workbench.

"Is everything all right," he had asked, but Perceptor had not responded. The scientist merely sipped his energon quietly, stared into it as though wondering why he had come.

For the longest time, they'd sat in silence, and then Perceptor had set his cube on the table – still mostly full – with a word of thanks, rising to his feet to leave. Magnus had noticed his lip was split and bleeding purple, hardly distinguishable from the traces of fresh liquid around the smaller robot's mouth from the cube he had been drinking.

A scrape... the shape of a finger. Magnus noted that as Perceptor left. He'd suspected. Hoped he was wrong, but suspected nonetheless.

But what Autobot could be so cruel...

oOo

"What's the matter?" Perceptor lowered his optics to the floor, his audios ringing at his bondmate's shrill, hurt screaming, "_Don't you love me any more_!?"

"Of course I do..." whimpered the microscope, not daring to meet those angry golden optics. "Of course I do, I love you..."

A hard smack to the back of his head stunned him. A blow to the front broke his nose. Energon poured from the wound, seeping between the fingers of the hand he clamped to try and stem the flow.

"So why do you betray me like this, Perce? Why go running to Magnus?"

"... M'no'..."

"Are you telling him I don't love you?" Piercing yellow optics narrowed. "But he won't believe you. Why would he believe _you_? You're a liar!"

Perceptor stumbled back, trying to dodge another enraged backhand which, despite his efforts, caught him in the chest and cracked his examination tray. Overbalanced, he fell to land heavily in a sitting position on the floor, one hand still pressed to his bleeding nose, staring fearfully up at his lover.

"Mirage," he begged softly, "Mira-aaage..."

"Don't use my designation when you don't even have the honour to be faithful!" spat the Ligier, turning his back. With his spare hand, Perceptor reached out, but he gave up. Mirage was too far away now...

oOo

He'd been coming almost every orn now. At first, the microscope only showed up at Magnus' door sporadically, but now it was almost every orn that the City Commander found him there. He never entered of his own accord, even though the soldier had given permission many times. He always stood there, meek and silent, as though expecting to be sent away...

Perceptor rarely spoke. He would sit at the desk with the cube of energon Magnus invariably gave him and, more often than not, would not drink any. When he did drink, it was never more than a quarter of the cube.

Instead, he would sit and stare at it in silence for sometimes as long as two joors, then push it towards Magnus, quietly thank him and then leave. He never asked for more. He never expected more. He never started a conversation, or looked as though he wanted one started with him.

Sometimes, he would have damage. Once, the tray on his chest had been cracked through. Once, he had been nearly-blinded by damage to his optics. Once, the lens on his scope was shattered. Once, he could hardly walk for a crumpled leg.

It was not usually so serious. Usually, it was just a dented face, a scratched cheek, the slight marks of blue paint over the white of his faceplates.

Not that he ever asked to be repaired, though. Not that he every asked anything. He just sat there with his energon and did not seem to mind whether Magnus even sat with him or not.

Once, a few orns back, he'd smiled at the commander when he'd thanked him before leaving – a small, sad smile, a rare smile these days. It had been warped by a long scrape of light blue that went from the corner of his mouth to his chin.

Magnus had wanted to carefully rub that mark away with his thumb...

oOo

Poor Mirage. He'd never before suffered from these bouts of anger, terrible, uncontrollable anger. Not before he'd taken a mate. Perceptor had fallen in love with him, after all.

Of course, he'd always been a rich mech. He'd always had his way and lashed out at servants, but what mech of his caste did not? That was etiquette. That was normal. Poor Mirage, the war was really taking its toll on him... He'd always hidden it well by either not talking to his fellow Autobots or being somewhat forcedly jovial around them, but it seemed his private life was tearing up...

Maybe it was the stress of having to watch out for Perceptor as well as himself? If Perceptor died, now, Mirage would suffer unbearable pain as part of his spark tore away. Maybe he was trying to make Perceptor better. Maybe he was trying to convince himself that Perceptor was worth such a sacrifice.

Huh... how could he, when Perceptor did not believe it himself?

oOo

"Don't pretend to be innocent! I was there! _I saw you_! I saw you standing there, _waiting for him_!"

Oh yes... Perceptor thought to himself as Mirage held him up by the neck. His mate could make himself invisible...

"_Magnus_!? That boring, dull-witted, unimaginative _soldier_!?" His lover dropped him. "You could violate the sanctity of a bond... for _that_? You _disgust_ me! How could you, when I trusted you!"

"He is gentle..." Perceptor found himself muttering, and instantly regretted it.

"You don't deserve 'gentle'." hissed Mirage venomously, glaring down. "You lost that from me when you started to betray my trust, when you started to find any excuse to be someplace else!"

There was no point arguing. When Mirage was in one of his rages, there was no point trying to reason with him. Just sit and try to last it out...

Funny. Mirage had never been angry before he'd taken a bondmate...

oOo

"Perceptor!" this time, Ultra Magnus could not repress the gasp that escaped when he saw Perceptor leaning on the wall outside his quarters.

All the signs of the usual damage. His throat was crumpled, too. Those were definitely finger-marks.

"Enough is enough, Perceptor." Magnus said sternly, guiding Perceptor in to his quarters, sitting him down and glaring at him without bothering to fetch the energon he would not drink. "Who is responsible for this? I will not have any Autobot so blatantly disregard protocol within my command."

Perceptor turned his head away, no matter how it hurt his throttled neck.

"It's not your business."

"I disagree."

"It's not your business who I spend my time with."

"No," agreed Magnus, "but I _am_ Commander at Metroplex and it _is_ my business who disobeys the rules I set down for my squadron to follow. You will tell me who is responsible, Perceptor. That is an order."

The scientist shrugged and sniffed. "You'll have to lock me away, then. It's not your business."

In the end, Magnus let him go, none the wiser.

oOo

It was times like this that Perceptor remembered why he loved his bondmate. The glitter in Mirage's golden optics when the Ligier was happy, the lilt of his voice, the uplifted tone...

Primus, he was beautiful.

"I love you," the microscope whispered as Mirage clutched him close, safe, secure, warm. Their berth was perfect. This was perfect. "I love you," saying it made it real.

He did not speak further, not wanting to shatter this. He'd fallen for the aristocrat, and he didn't regret that. Mirage was not a bad mech. He'd never suffered anger problems before bonding Perceptor.

"Night 'Raj..." whispered the microscope as he curled further in to his sleeping mate and offlined his optics. The aches on his cheeks had faded away by now...

He slept safe that night.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **all recognised names property of HasTakTomy.

**Note:** Mirage is based more on his appearance in the IDW comics (the batshit version of him we have actually seen) than on the Geewun cartoon. Just to, uh, clear that up.


	2. Chapter 2

"That looks serious."

Perceptor did not answer, did not move. As always, he just continued to stare at the cube of energon Magnus had given to him with all his usual sightless intent.

The City Commander could not help staring at the sparking split in the smaller robot's helm as he spoke. "I'm no medic, but do you want me to call Ratchet and have him fix that for you?"

"... No." Perceptor snatched his injured head away. "Thank you, but no."

Perhaps it was too uncomfortable to stay after Ultra Magnus had so blatantly pointed out his wound. The microscope pushed his energon cube away and, with his usual quiet thanks, left.

oOo

Ratchet was always busy, jetting back and forth between Earth and Moon Base Beta. Ultra Magnus managed to catch him on rare downtime somehow.

"Perceptor? No, I haven't seen him for a long time," the gruff-voiced medic answered, pausing as he was about to board the freight back to Moon Base. "He's more than capable of running his own diagnostics."

"And Wheeljack?" Pressed the soldier, "has he?"

"Doubt it," shrugged Ratchet tiredly, "Wheeljack hasn't been back since Metroplex was completed. He's been busy."

The medic turned away again, lingering only in case the City Commander had any last words to add. He did not see Magnus frown.

"I... see. Well, have a safe return journey, Ratchet. We shall be in touch soon."

oOo

Carefully, Perceptor ran his fingers over his sleeping bondmate's cheek. Mirage did not always recharge in peace.

He was snuffling again. Little whimpers. Mirage was never loud, per se. Even when he shouted, he was never _loud_. Perceptor cooed to him. Don't be afraid, I'm right here...

"Mmm... Perce?" Golden optics glowed brightly as Mirage woke. Perceptor smiled gently.

"Sorry to wake you..."

"Mm. Don' worry about it, sweet. C'mon, you look tired..."

Perceptor let Mirage ease him down on the berth. Let himself be tucked in, cuddled possessively, let Mirage remove the scope from his shoulder and place it on the floor when it got in the way. "... have a good recharge cycle."

"You too, sweet." Mirage offlined his optics. Perceptor let himself do the same.

oOo

Ultra Magnus sat and watched Perceptor swirl the energon around in its cube. Strangely enough, there were no signs of violence on his frame; the first time that the microscope had come to his superior's quarters without some injury.

"Do you do your own repairs, Perceptor?" he asked at last, unable to keep his traitorous vocaliser in check.

The microscope stared at his cube and then shook his head mutely.

It was a subtle change, but noticeable nonetheless. The atmosphere became somewhat colder after Magnus had asked the question, and Perceptor was not exempt. The gait of his body, the posture, the tilt of his shoulder away from the other mech, all betrayed his wish to talk no longer.

Ultra Magnus respected his wish for privacy and did not press the matter, fully expecting his small companion to stand up and leave any moment.

He was pleasantly surprised when Perceptor stayed. The red robot even gave him a small smile for his kindness.

oOo

Who fixed him? Ultra Magnus wanted to know who fixed him?

Why, but that was easy!

Mirage fixed him. Every single injury, Mirage painstakingly fixed him, repaired him, brought him back to perfection again. Every mark, every blemish, every scratch of paint Mirage carefully washed away, all the while whispering apologies.

It could be painful, especially on the more sensitive areas of his face, but Perceptor always lay on the berth in silence and let Mirage straighten the dents out. The aristocrat was no medic, that much was certain from the sloppiness of some of his repairs, but he always seemed so determined...

Afterwards, while his newly-repaired wounds were still tender, Mirage would crawl onto the berth with him, caress the still-sore injuries with such a tender, gentle, loving touch that the pain seemed to seep away.

The microscope would smile at him, invariably. Mirage would smile back when he noticed, and would gather Perceptor into his arms and silently whisper for forgiveness... which the scientist always gave.

Perceptor liked those times, when Mirage cradled him secure. His aristocrat, always so contrite and careful...

oOo

"Why do you keep betraying me like this, Perceptor?" Mirage wailed, turning his back on his mate's dented face. Perceptor bowed his head to the floor.

"I do not mean to..."

"But you _do_, and it hurts me." The aristocrat walked away some few paces, placed his hand against the wall, heaved a sigh. His shoulders were slumped, his frame stooped as though under some invisible burden.

"I'm sorry..."

Mirage did not turn around. His shoulders were shaking, his vents erratic. "You say that every time and you still keep on finding any excuse to leave! So go on, then, run to your other lovers!"

Perceptor frowned in confusion and no small amount of fear, "I don't have -"

"GET OUT!"

He ran.

oOo

Kisses with Mirage were amazing. Each kiss, the Ligier cradled his little lover, coveted his mouth, cherished his pale cheeks. Those brilliant golden optics dimmed but still always watched Perceptor's face.

Perceptor could never keep his optics online for more than a quarter-klik in their kisses, even the slow, warm, loving ones. Each time, Mirage would cup his cheeks, say to him 'I love you', value him, protect him.

Each kiss was a blessing. Perceptor cherished each one as though it would be the last. The last taste, the last caress, he dreaded that but savoured each liplock as though he would never have such privilege again.

What was the possibility of that, when Mirage was always so angry with him...?

Each kiss was truly a blessing, not in the least because Mirage was still willing to press their lips together.

Oh, Mirage...

oOo

"I know it's a bit forward," murmured Perceptor quietly, swirling the pink liquid in its container, "but may I stay here tonight?"

Ultra Magnus glanced at him. "If you wish.

"I don't need a recharge plate." the scientist said before the soldier could offer.

"Perceptor, as I said, my door is always open to you should you need it. If you want to stay for the subsolar cycle, then you may."

Perceptor nodded and thanked the taller mech quietly.

He stayed with Magnus that night, offlined in the chair he always sat in when visiting. Magnus had offered him the berth; he had declined as many times as he had needed to.

OOo

Mirage was trembling uncontrollably when Perceptor entered the room. Immediately, he knew why.

"Where were you Perce?" Remarkably, his voice was not trembling. Perceptor answered, very quiet. Mirage heard every word clear.

"Ultra Magnus let me stay."

His mate was upon him in an instant, howling and tearing at his chassis as though he was in pain. "Why! Why! You betrayer, you cheat, you liar, you unfaithful little glitch! How dare you tell me you love me when you rush to spend any opportunity with that common soldier!"

"'Raj, I _do_ love you..." Perceptor cooed, trying to catch his mate's hands.

"Don't! Don't you say that! You have no right saying that after spending a night in Magnus' berth!"

"I didn't go in his berth."

Mirage was not consoled. "Are you that shallow? Do you go with him because he's the City Commander? Do you go with him because you want a promotion? Am I not _good enough _for you!?"

"I didn't go in his berth!"

"STOP LYING TO ME!" Mirage hit Perceptor in the cheek, leaving a smear of blue paint beneath his eye. "STOP IT, STOP IT!"

He collapsed forward onto his microscope's chest, sobbing brokenly into the examination tray.

oOo

"You want some more energon?" the Commander asked of his smaller guest. Perceptor had all but finished the cube Magnus had given him; it was the most the soldier had ever seen him drink.

"... please."

Another cube. Perceptor drank it. Magnus stared.

"I feel a bit ridiculous asking this," he admitted, folding the empty canisters into subspace, "but is everything all right?"

Perceptor gave him a Look. "Everything is fine..." a small smile. The first smile Magnus had seen for deca-cycles. "May I have another?"

Another cube. Perceptor drank it. Magnus stared.

"Any more and you'll fry your systems," he said quietly, taking the empty cube from Perceptor. "This is not like you."

"I know."

It was clear from the microscope's tone he had no intention of elaborating. Ultra Magnus sighed. There was blue paint near one of the two azure optics staring dolefully at him; he wanted to wipe it away.

Blue paint? Blue hands? Who did he know with hands of that colour...?

"You have blue on your face." He raised a finger to point. Perceptor raised his fingers to the mark self-consciously, then looked away and shrugged, more sluggish than usual.

"It's not a problem."

Ultra Magnus would not back down. "Whose paint is that? Tracks?" He started naming as many mechs as he could remember. "Beachcomber?" Nothing. "Prime?" ... no, thank Primus he had been away on Cybertron since before Metroplex' completion. "Smokescreen?" He was giving up hope of getting any reaction. Perceptor sat as still as though he were deactivated. "Mirage?"

The microscope's optics flickered. It was all his companion needed.

"Mirage? _Mirage_? Is _he_ the one responsible for this?" When Perceptor could not meet his gaze, he knew he was right. "I'll have him arrested for assault."

Perceptor rose, a tad unsteady, caught Magnus' arm. "Don't."

"It is a matter of protocol, Perceptor. I will not have my soldiers manhandling each other. Stand down."

"Don't!" Cried the microscope, moving to block the door. "I'll stop you! Drop it, just leave us be...!"

oOo

"I'm sorry I hit you, Perce." Mirage whispered contritely, running his fingers over the mark of paint he had left. Perceptor smiled and caught his mate's hand between both of his.

"Don't worry," he replied, tone gentle, "it's not painful."

Mirage's optics faded a sliver. "It's not right that your beautiful face should be damaged." He was almost begging now. "Let me fix it."

"Now?"

"If you would it."

Perceptor quirked a smile at his lover's archaic grasp of language and swung his legs on the berth.

Mirage's repairs were almost always clumsy, but it was always good to feel his tender fingers easing the injuries away...


End file.
